


We're Each Other's Crime Scenes

by mewCoyote



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Backrubs, Fluff, Headaches, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 19:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8812669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mewCoyote/pseuds/mewCoyote
Summary: Based on the following headcanon from thedi-wreck-tor
neds job as a smuggling baron is very stressful. before the fryes came to town he would unwind after the shittiest days with the strongest whiskey money could buy locked in his room because a hangover headache is easier for him to deal with than a tension one 
now, after a crappy day, he still enjoys a whiskey but now he enjoys it with jacob, while the assassin is massaging his shoulders/neck/temples and almost every time he falls asleep during the massage with his head in jacobs lap
(Source: http://thedi-wreck-tor.tumblr.com/post/133709838575/wye-headcannon )





	

Ned was used to long days.

Running a crime syndicate lent itself to unpredictable hours, and sometimes there was no way to avoid working straight from the crack of dawn till nearly midnight.

And since the Frye twins had blown their way into town, his days had only gotten longer, not to mention that the number of attempts on his life had increased several fold. Just today, he'd had to deal with Blighter “assassins” twice, not to mention the shipment of gemstones stolen by the Blighters, or the three good thieves caught by dear old Freddy, who was refusing to give them back.

It had been a very long day, and Ned was ready to, as usual, curl up in his bed with a bottle of whiskey, drink himself to sleep, and wake up with a raging hangover.

Unfortunately, when Ned stalked into his own room, whiskey in hand, there was someone in his bed.

“Jacob. I don't care what happened; it's two in the morning and I'm not dealing with anything until I get some sleep.”

Jacob turned his puppy eyes towards Ned. “Not even a back rub?” he asked with a pout.

Ned set down his whiskey slightly too abruptly, pulling a glass from a nook and pouring himself a shot. “What, are you offering?”

The taller man grabbed the bottle from Ned and took a swig, beaming. “Only if you want me to.”

Ned downed the shot in his hands, setting the glass aside to strip to his undershirt and trousers. “And if I want you to?”

“Then you should sit.” Jacob sat up, swinging his legs to dangle off the bed, patting the space between them.

Ned sat.

Jacob’s huge hands settled on Ned’s shoulders, dwarfing the smaller man, then began to -

“ooooh god…” Ned melted into Jacob’s hands, eyes closing, tension slowly draining from his small body.

~One amazing back rub later~

When Ned woke up the next morning, he knew two things: one, he was in love with Jacob Frye, and two, he wanted several more massages over the next few months, especially if the Fryes kept making messes in his city.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks again to thedi-wreck-tor for the inspiration  
> comment and know that i am running around the room screaming b/c of you. in a good way. i promise. 
> 
> also title credit goes to a line from Brad Yoder's "Some Strange Algorithm"  
> go check him out he's a great singer


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